Five Times Carla Connor's Heart Broke
by eden alice
Summary: And One Time It Didn't
1. 1 Another Night of Falling

**Five Times Carla Connor's Heart Broke**

**(And One Time It Didn't)**

1. Another Night of Falling

_Here's the day you hoped would never come  
Don't feed me violence, just run with me  
Through rows of speeding cars  
The paper cuts, the cheating lovers  
The coffee's never strong enough  
I know you think it's more than just bad luck_

_Sleeping pills, no sleeping dogs lie never  
Far enough away  
Glistening in the cold sweat of guilt  
I've watched you slowly winding down for years  
You can't keep on like this  
Now is as bad of time as any- Imogene Heap, Speeding Cars_

Her world collapsed early one Sunday morning. After years of half living, trying desperately to feel everything and then feel nothing, it all dropped away with the fading warmth of an approaching autumn.

She'd awoke in a half light, a gap in the closed curtains allowed uncompromising sunlight to spill across the bed, making her feel vulnerable and open to a world she did not want to be a part off. Carla would have turned over into the soft darkness of her pillow and pretend to sleep some more if not for her husband looking down at her from he's seat on the edge of the bed. A slight frown causing a furrow between his brows, cheeks hollow, dark with stubble and eyes unreadable and desolate.

Some long forgotten emotion knotted in her stomach as she stared back, the fog of sleep still thick.

Silently Tony touched her forehead hesitantly as if he half expected her to pull away. A small smile touched his lips as his fingers ran through the tangles of her long dark hair.

Carla waited; she did not have enough energy to wonder about how she found herself leaning into his touch. A reaction she could barely bring herself to fake the past few months. But his fingers combing through her hair was soothing, like protection from whatever was coming.

"I'm so sorry."

Tony's accent was thick as if he chose the words carefully. His hand stilled in her hair. He opened his mouth to say more before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

He walked away without saying another word. Carla could not bring herself to ask what he was sorry about.

Three months after getting married Carla had enough of staring at dark ceilings while her husband sleeps besides her. In this time she has learnt that darkness is something ever changing rather than flat blackness. She can see changes in density, from the gentle darkness near the window a product of a nearby street lamp, to the thick darkness by the bedroom door. She can't see the damn door though it and is ashamed to admit the blackness scares her as if she is a child again. It stops her from fleeing the room that brings her no rest.

So she lays still staring into the darkness above her feeling the hours pass as if they are something physical, it leaves her with a familiar sense of loss.

The sleeping pills become a nightly occurrence before she notices any dependence. The half empty bottle catches her unaware; suddenly she's counting weeks of chemically induced rest rather than days.

Tony starts to notice and Carla can see concern starting to form behind his transparent jokes. She has never wanted to need anyone so she starts to hide the tiny white pills from him.

And she sleeps for long solid periods of time. A glass of wine or two on top and she can't remember getting ready for bed let alone getting into it.

Carla wakes up more tired than before she slept. It's yet another reason why she can not stop now. She's chasing something she doesn't quite understand. Her sleep is empty and dreamless and she does not feel the weight of Tony's arm slung protectively over her hips.

Sometimes she wonders if she is just being silly. Sitting in the Rovers with Leanne or running her business is all fine. She feels fine and no one seems to notice anything different behind her carefully painted eyes. Tony is everything she thought he'd be as a husband; attentive, generous and secretly tender. Once she found herself in the office at Underworld watching Tony answer the phone and simply felt content. She distracted Tony from his important call with a satisfied smile but later she wouldn't tell him the reason behind it.

As dusk draws in it feels like she is falling into another world. Just like Alice in Wonder Land. She remembers lying deathly still, skin itching as she listens to the sound of her husband's long even breaths. So she keeps trying the sleeping pills and wonders what she is missing.

Two and a half weeks later Carla cancels lunch with Michelle because she can't stop crying. She manages to hold of the sobs while on the phone to her ex sister-in-law but Michelle can clearly hear something is wrong, offering to go round to Carla's instead.

Carla is angry with herself for not covering her emotions better and she hopes her sharp tongue cut Michelle enough to keep her away. It usually does. She will feel guilty later, right now her breath is coming in short gasps, she can't see through tears, her body is shaking and she thinks she might be sick.

She half sits half falls to the floor glad that Tony is away on a meeting and can't see the state she is in. Carla has no idea why she is so emotional; she did not even cry this much when Paul or Liam died.

The thought of the two brothers she somehow managed to fall in love with only sources fresh tears. Pulling her knees to her chest and resting a wet cheek on them. She is distantly aware a wake of dizziness means she could pass out if she does not get a hold of herself.

Ignoring the pain in her chest she forces herself to take big, slow gulps or air, focusing on repeating the action. Maybe this is a panic attack. In the safety of her own home she is having a fucking panic attack over nothing. Michelle's company has never been that terrible.

Useless, she has never felt so useless. Like her mother was right and she would never amount to anything, which, in turn fills her with self loathing for even completing anything that woman said as truth. She would call Tony but he would ask questions she did not have the answer to. Plus she would be ruining a potential big contract and that would make him angry. She couldn't call Michelle after the way she had talked to her earlier. Leanne has already seen far too much, although she was grateful for the other woman's support she could not quite trust her completely. It was not like she had anyone else left she would even consider making herself look fragile in front of.

The fact that she had no real friends bothered Carla for the first time in her life.

Lying curled up on the floor she listens to the quiet white noise of her empty home feeling heavy and exhausted by her crying fit. She just wants to feel normal. Not feeling that there is not a massive pit of despair inside her.

Later she does not think it is a suicide attempt but Carla pulls herself to her feet and heads to a little bottle of pills she hid in a cupboard behind a few unused pots and pans on shaking legs. She just needs to sleep all this out of her system. She'll wake up and Tony would be back and she won't be so sad it makes her insides ache.

In a shiny metal surface she catches a distorted glimpse of her reflection. Make-up nearly all gone apart from a few unattractive black smudges down her cheeks. She cringes at the puffy redness of her eyes even though she expected those. What she did not expect was the hollowness of her cheeks. She had been blessed with distinctive bone structure but she was starting to look a little too pinched.

Turning away irritably she clumsily tore the lid from the plastic container silently cursing child locks. Dry swallowing two pills she contemplated the view from the window absently. With a higher dosage of drugs she could sleep the rest of the day and straight through the night as well. When she wakes up she'll get Tony to make her a big breakfast and then she could amuse herself trading insults with her staff.

Fine, she'll be fine.

There is an open bottle of an expensive wine sitting in tempting view, left over from dinner last night. Carla swigs the alcohol straight from the bottle not caring about being lady like with a snotty nose and ruined make-up. Tipping some more pills into her hand she swallows those too without really looking.

She hugs the wine bottle to her chest as the tears start again. Closes her eyes in relief as the first tide of fatigue washes through her. Slowly she makes her way to the bedroom, moving as methodically as possible.

She draws the curtains to shut the day out, hopes the rest of the world will leave her alone too, just for a few hours peace. Carla has no energy left to prepare for bed and she is starting to feel too foggy to do much anyway. So she lets her hair out of the high ponytail she had quickly put it in earlier and half tumbles onto the bed fully clothed. She lies expectantly feeling the medication take effect, waiting for the safety of sleep.

She wakes up the next day at mid afternoon feeling terrible. It is a Saturday, she realised only when Tony appeared in the room to check on her. It takes a while to realise why her head is pounding and her stomach churning.

Oh god, how could she be so stupid.

Tony is a little smothering but a perfect gentleman. He brings her tea and explains that he came home last night to find her passed out on top of the bed covers. Thinking she was ill he undressed her and placed her under the covers.

He kisses her temple and Carla can barely hide her tears of shame from him. She is well aware of the danger of her actions. If anyone knew the truth they would think it was a suicide attempt. It was not suicide; she does not remember a single thought about wanting to die, just about wanting to sleep and wanting to feel better.

There is a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispering '_liar'_.

Before Tony can turn to leave the room Carla grabs his hand with all her strength. She pulls her him back down to her raping her arms around his neck and burying her head in his chest. She wants to thank his, to apologise even if he doesn't know the truth.

"I love you."

He smiles into her hair "I love you too."

It is the last time Carla initiates physical contact with her husband but a long time before she actively flinches at being touched.

The night Liam died Carla spent the whole night curled on the couch in the dark with a bottle of whiskey.

The next night she dreams of him. Just a shadow at first but soon he is achingly real and he is with her. A lopsided smirk on his lips, dark hair framing warm eyes filled with humour and love.

She can feel the thin cotton of his garish t-shirt under her fingers when she hugs him. Can feel his callous fingers gently brush strands of hair away from her cheek, his body heat as her fingers trace the skin of his hips beneath the waistband of his jeans. She can't help but to let her head fall back and gasp in ecstasy as he maps her body with his tongue.

When she wakes up and remembers it is like seeing his lifeless body all over again. For a few seconds she thinks she is dying.

She has the dream every night after that. The details are vague but it feels like the life she could have had is shown to her while she sleeps. It is not fair, she thinks, how she is meant to get over the love of her life if she has to lose him again every morning.

She can't tell anyone besides Leanne and the trust between the two women is tentative. Liam is all she wants but when she stands in the Rovers with Liam's family and friends she would give her soul for one of them to understand her loss and hold her together for a while.

This is not a secret she thinks she can keep. She looks into Tony's eyes and tries not to compare him to Liam, Tony is a strong, charismatic man and he makes her feel safe, but her secret burns through her veins. Inside all the tiny cracks and splits that make her so brittle have finally shattered. Carla stares at herself in the mirror, studies her reflection with jaded eyes. She does not look any different, a little pale and tired but still the same. There should be some sort of physical clue that she will never be whole again.

As the funeral draws closer it is clear that she can not carry on living her lie. She knows she would have done something really stupid if not for Leanne's gentle attentiveness. She knows she has to leave before she can see any future.

In America she is the grieving widow. In the company of an old friend she lets the pieces fall and doesn't care that they will not fit in the same way again.

Once she has done crying and screaming she tries talking. She finds sympathy in return. Liam will always be missing part of her soul but now the idea of moving forward is possible. She realises that Tony loves her and he does not deserve the way she has treated him.

In a garish accent so different to the one her friend had as a teen she talks about closure. The term makes Carla roll her eyes but she thinks she might understand. Besides the dreams have stopped and Liam would want her to at least try and be happy.

After a year of secrets it is Michelle who first notices something is wrong, well she is the first person brave enough to demand the truth. Others ask after her in passing but she is very good at hiding behind bitch facade. Carla thinks Tony may have put Michelle up to it. She does not think there is anything for her husband to notice but she sometimes catches him watching her with such a tender expression she thinks he might cry.

"Tell me what the hell is going on with you." Michelle is blunt as ever. For a moment Carla feels like a rabbit caught in head lights. Maybe she should confess, but to what? She had no idea what was wrong with her. A possible suicide attempt, crying at nothing, the way every damn thing feels like a tedious task, even eating, self-disgust even worse than what her mother made her feel as a little girl, how does she explain that when she doesn't understand herself.

"I dunno, but I'm sure you are going to tell me 'Chelle."

Brown eyes narrow at her none answer. Michelle leans across the table placing her hand over Carla's and tries again.

"Look I know we haven't had a chance to really talk for a while. I'm sorry if you have needed me and I've been too busy with Ryan but I'm here now."

Carla slips her hand out from under Michelle's not really caring if she is being impolite.

"Well that's great, but I don't need you. Its fine, I'm fine. I have no idea what you are getting at." She looks her ex sister-in-law dead in the eye trying not to show how uncomfortable she is with the depth of the other woman's conviction.

"You aint fine Carla. You are quiet and distant and we never see you anymore. People might not notice that you're trying to hide it but I'm family."

Michelle's words make her feel agitated, threatened. She does not feel like she has family anymore, does not feel like she has anyone.

Carla stands to leave gathering her coat from the back of her chair.

"There is an emptiness in you that I haven't seen since Paul died. Only this time you have no fire left, no anger."

Carla stops in her tracks. She feels anger now, feels it start to warm her cheeks. Michelle is right she has not been able to summon any anger for a long while. It feels good and she indulges the emotion.

"What am I meant to be angry about? Is Tony scum too? Fucking whores behind my back. I really don't need to hear what you think you see." She spits the words with perhaps more force than warranted.

"Don't you dare talk about Paul like that! He may have made mistakes but he was a good man."

It was all too easy to manipulate Michelle, hurt her so she would just go away.

"Good," Carla snorted. "He locked a prostitute in the trunk and crashed the car. That's something that happens in an Enimen song it is not something a good man would do."

"Carla please don't do this."

There were tears in the other woman's eyes but she can't remember how to care.

"I won't do anything if you just leave me alone. What is your problem 'Chelle? Anyone would think the family get themselves killed to get away from your mouth. Watch out or you might finish Ryan of next!"

Carla expects the slap but it still makes her stumble with its force. She feels strangely detached watching Michelle's eyes blaze with hatred, how she bites her lip to stop the tears. Carla knows her well enough to know Michelle can't help but hear some truth in her words.

"I am so through with you." Michelle practically whispers a finger gabbed at Carla's chest.

It is a good response. She feels like she should have no one left.

It was surprisingly easy to pretend you are fine when people don't really know you to start with, and there are not many people that know Carla well.

Michelle was true to her word and had not said a word since their argument besides taking a couple of drink orders. She wondered how much the other woman had told her son. The last time she saw the boy, Ryan offered her a sad smile from under his floppy hair before heading up to complete his homework as ordered. That hurt. Carla had not realised how much she missed him till he was placed in this awkward position.

Ryan had lost so much yet he had come out the other side still a teenager, with optimism and a future. She had an irrational need to ask him how he did it, how he didn't give up on the world. He was the only person left she truly considered family and she would not hurt him like she did everyone else so she stayed away.

Tony knew her well enough to be very worried but not enough to help. It had been the same with Paul but at least she had still been naïve back then not to realise.

Her distance and unhappiness was clear to the man she knew loved her very much.

She was wearing a dress in dark jade the day Tony tried to kiss her. By this point she was having trouble keeping track of time.

They were alone and he had pulled her to him, cupped the back of her neck as his lips touched hers.

Carla was aware she should be feeling something.

"Sweetheart, I want to make love to you." Her husband ran his hand up and down the curve of the side of her waist, breath hot against her cheek. He leans forward to kiss her again. Maybe he has not noticed her stillness yet, maybe he chooses to ignore it.

His kisses are warm and skilful, lips just brushing at first then firmer, nipping at her bottom lip. She remembers being a girl. Remembers when this was new and exciting. She remembers trembling and arousal, gripping muscular arms tightly to keep herself upright. She remembers enjoying how she could make a man growl.

"Carla, please." His hand is under her skirt just above a knee.

She wonders how long till she starts to die on the outside too.

Tony makes an angry sound in his throat when she pulls away. She is cold without his warmth on her; she raps her arms across her chest.

"Damn it! Why can't you…It's me isn't it?" He's glare is desperate and Carla thinks she might be able to break him too.

"I'm sorry."

At her soft reply his posture deflates slightly anger lessening.

"I don't understand why you won't let me touch you. When we first got married the sex was mind-blowing, I don't understand what has changed."

There are tears glistening in her eyes as she replies, "I don't know. Its not you, I know it's a cliché but it's me. I don't…I can't. I wish things could be the way they used to." It is the first time she actually wants to articulate what she is going through and yet she is still saying it all wrong.

She had hoped to ease her husband's pain but instead his face crumples and oh god, he is crying. Suddenly she feels sick with shame. He reaches out a hand towards her cheek stopping half way scared in more ways than he could say.

"I'm not stupid darling. I know that you haven't really been here for a while, that you are in pain. It kills me that I can't fix it, that you won't let me look after you. I can see that your not eating, not doing anything. I love you Carla, I'm crazy about you, and I'm scared for you. But I'm right here. I could never leave you. When you do need me, when you want to talk I'll be right here." His voice is thick and strained. She has never seen him so open.

Hesitantly she approaches him holding eye contact. She had not realised her pain could hurt him so much. She did not believe that she could come back from this but maybe she could save her husband.

She steps into his arms, rapping her arms around his middle feeling every sob as it jolts his body. She wishes she could cry too. He holds her tightly in return, as if he held her tight enough he could stop her fading away.

On a windy day in April Carla can't hold it together in public anymore. There had been hints and people had gossiped, but then, they used to gossip before there was anything to talk about.

She hated walking across the factory floor in working hours. She could feel their eyes watching her, caught whispers as they gossiped about her and then there were the catty comments they actually directed at her. She did not have much fight left for verbal sparing with the staff. She wonders when she became so pathetic.

It was not feasible to always avoid the factory but when possible she would stay in the office and pretend she was not hiding. If it was not for Tony she would have most likely closed the business. It amused her that, after years of fighting to achieve something, to be more than a girl from a rough estate, now she had her own successful business and a loving husband she could not bring herself to care.

Ironically as she was fading her business was thriving. With two new large contracts they had to take on new machinists to meet deadlines. Or so Tony tells her, she barely notices the new faces. While Carla might not be able to let him take care of mentally and physically she could not stop him taking care of her financially. She wanted him to stop, she wanted to burn everything to the ground and have nothing.

Today everything is suddenly irritating and vivid like she has not seen in a long time, not since an accident with some sleeping pills and an argument with someone who used to be family. But it is half an hour till the girls are on their lunch break and she can be alone, so till then she stares at the paperwork so closely it becomes a series of ink blobs rather than letters and digs her nails into the fleshy part of her palms.

There is a file she needs and she thinks it is in the car. She has been forgetful for a while and moves to get it on autopilot. She visibly grimaces as her hands relax from the fists she was making. Her fingers ach from tension of squeezing tightly and the red little half moon welts in her hand sting. There is a disappointment over not drawing blood like characters in books and films but it quickly fades.

She does not acknowledge Tony as she leaves the room but his eyes are on her.

The factory floor is loud and abrasive, the sounds of machines and chatter, someone is singing along to the radio, badly. They all seem to exist in a different world to Carla; they seem so alive and happy even if their lives are not perfect. She keeps her head down and walks straight for the door.

"Mrs Gordon can I have a word!" Fizz uses a childish voice that sets Carla's teeth on edge, it is almost worst than Sean being the ultimate stereotype or Janice's constant butchering of the English language.

Absorbed in the task at hand Fizz has to call her again before she turns, not bothering to change her unwelcoming glare as she did so.

"What is it?"

Fizz clambers out from behind her machine, wild hair falling over her face as she does so. "I don't know if you noticed but my wage packet last month seems to be wrong, because I did all that overtime. I was hoping to sort it out today."

"Like she'd notice if we'd all been replaced by hamsters. She's been doing a great impression of a zombie lately." Kelly grumbled to a sniggering Sean. Quietly but Carla still heard.

"Go ask Mr Gordon." She wouldn't get involved, wouldn't let them push her. It had so much easier when she was numb.

"I did last week and he said he'd get back to me but he hasn't." Fizz rolls her eyes at the idea of being so low down on her bosses list of things to do after working so hard.

"Okay, I'll deal with it tomorrow." She turns to leave again but Fizz rushes after her, stands in front of her looking like a little girl as she fiddled with edge of her neon cardigan.

"If you wouldn't mind putting yourself out for a minuet I sort of need it now, money being a bit tight after all. Besides I've already earned it."

The girl can't know how wrong her words are but Carla is too angry to care. How dare she assume she is the only one with problems? Just worrying about money when every breath she takes seems to make everything more impossible. When she doesn't even see why she is bothering to hold on for in the first place.

How dare Fizz or anyone else not understand? She wants to tear the girl apart with her bear hands, make her bloody and battered, and then maybe she would have a chance of understanding.

"Do you really think I'm going to drop everything to deal with your silly little life?"

Words sharp like blades. They are all she has ever had.

Fizz takes an actual step backwards in surprise at the level of venom in her employer's voice. The others all stop and stare open mouth at the scene evolving in front of them.

Carla smirked, her attention focused on Fizz with laser sharp intensity. "What you want an extra couple of quid for a drink or two in the pub. Get so pissed you forget how useless you are."

"Oi, what gives you the right!" Out of the chorus of collective gasps it is Sally who speaks first.

"For once in your life could you shut up and stop interfering Webster!" Carla barks without looking at the other woman.

Wiki frowns as she moves to comfort Fizz, the ginger girl desperately trying to hold back tears and not appear weak.

No one noticed Tony enter the room with Rosie close behind him till he spoke.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Morticia's finally lost the plot and has decided to terrorise the workforce." Janice supplied.

"Well it was only going to take so long staring at your ugly mug day after day." Carla snapped back.

"That's enough!" Tony's shout was largely ignored.

"Oh I'm sorry, you're angry? It's hard to tell through all that botox." Janice reply was quick; she had always disliked her boss and was not going to let her just verbally attack her friends.

"Janice!" Tony rebuked angrily ready to wade in and stop the argument.

"Don't have a go at her. For once this is all down to your lovely wife. We could all sue for emotional distress." Kelly told him, sarcastic as ever.

With a factory full of angry faces staring at her Carla found her violent anger quickly departing and panic rising in its place. Her husband was looking at her as if she was some crazed wild animal, like she'd just proven herself insane in a room full of people.

Somehow there is silence and even the radio has stopped. The tension is thick and suffocating and she needs to leave. She has already shown too much.

Carla turned on her heels, shakily jogs away without paying attention to her destination, just away, hopefully far, far away.

She finds herself in the kitchen/break area breath caught in her chest in a way that does nothing for the dread rising in her stomach. She grips the back of a chair tightly feeling sick. She has ruined everything; she had let people she never wanted to be exposed in front of get under her skin. No one would let her go on pretending any more and it terrified her.

A bubble of laughter escapes her throat and quickly becoming manic. What the fuck has she done? The laughter hurts her chest and quickly dissolves into sobs as she struggles to breathe normally. She tires to fight the urge to hide in a corner and hope they won't find her.

There are a group of unwashed mugs on the table, they blur and light shines off the tears that start to fall. With a sweep of her arm she knocks them flying, her anger not quiet diminished.

She tries not to hear voices or the footsteps following the noise from the crash as she sinks to her knees. Automatically moving to clean up the mess she made. The shards on the floor look like they never made a whole item. She picks up as many pieces as her hand could hold before realising she doesn't quite know what to do with then, the bin is too far away and drops them again.

Her breath is still coming too fast and she can't do anything about it as she dizzily lets herself fall into a seated position.

"Oh my god, are we all seeing this!" The audience arrival is marked with Rosie's usual lack of diplomacy.

The group huddled in the doorway were a series of blurred dark shapes. Carla hid her face in her hands wishing she could regain her composure or disappear. Humiliation was something she always protected herself from and now she really sees why.

"Carla, darling careful."

She barely registers it is Tony approaching her and tries to edge backwards away from him as he gently pulls her hands away from her face. She tries to say no but it comes out as a strangled hiccup.

He strokes her hair trying to calm her down. When she seems to realise who he is he picks her up of the pile or broken shards she was sitting in and places her in the safety of a nearby chair.

"Should we call a doctor?" Wicki sounded concerned and uncomfortable as she watched.

Kelly snorted "Yeah a head doctor." She mumbled.

"Will you all get out!" Tony snapped moving to shield his wife from their view. "Move you've all finished for the day."

Once alone he crouches down in front of her eyes brimming with concern. She is no longer crying but her cheeks are still wet and her eyes glazed. Her hands sit limply in her lap and Tony carefully picks one up at the wrist.

"Carla you're bleeding." Tony tells her, voice soft and even.

She frowns in confusion before she registers pain in her hands. She can't see because Tony is holding her wrists as he examines her injuries but there is blood running down her wrist.

"Oh," She sounds despondent to her own ears, she can't even pretend anymore.

3 days latter the bandage on her stinging hand is itching and Carla starts to slowly pick it apart. For the past few days she has carefully remained silent staying curled up in an oversized arm chair letting time pass by.

Tony thinks he has finally lost her.

For the first year and a half of marriage they had been so happy and his guilt had eased somewhat, buried in some dark corner of his mind because he had everything he wanted.

Then the love of his life started slipping. Slowly at first and it is easy to pretend he missed the signs. Before he knew it Carla was just out of his grasp and no matter how much he tried he couldn't tether her. He should have done something when she started taking sleeping pills every night but he was so afraid.

Now the guilt clouds everything because maybe his wife would be happier if her lover was still alive, the man he killed because he threatened to take Carla away from him. Now he does not recognise the woman he sleeps next to each night. He looks into her eyes and is terrified by the emptiness he sees in them. He only wanted to make her happy.

While Carla appeared catatonic Tony could barely sit still, he had always been a man of action. He had no idea what to do, he could not get her to talk or even acknowledge his presence. He had never wanted so badly to touch her, to help put her back together, to shelter her, but he did not think he could take being rejected by her once again.

The thought of calling a doctor was quickly dismissed, he could not do that to her, to take away any more of her dignity. Somehow trying to place starch scientific rules onto something as unpredictable and creative as a human mind seemed disturbing and wrong.

He almost told her once, he had a weak moment and she seemed so sad, curled up in their bed looking impossibly small. Light spilling in through the window and falling against her pale skin, the blanket of dark hair covering her face shinning a dark mahogany in its glare.

He could never explain why he never told her what he was apologising for, maybe because he feared it could break her, maybe because he could not stand her looking at him with hatred burring in her eyes. He had walked away expecting her to start asking questions because she was always perceptive and insistent. She never mentioned his apology in the quiet first light and wonders if she somehow she already knows the truth.

He wonders if he broke her anyway.

"Carla, I can't let this go on any longer." He had already let this go on for far too long but maybe they hadn't toppled over the edge of the cliff just yet. "I need to tell you something."

It surprised him that he had unconsciously started to circle her chair, eyes fixed on her, dark like a predator. It has always been easy to slip into this dangerous mode of him and them (her) doing whatever he can to lead to his desired outcome. He had loved the way Carla had always played the game too, enjoying the passion, conviction, the frill of the chase. He ached for the woman she used to be.

With great effort Tony sat himself in a chair opposite Carla, clasping his hands together in an attempt to be focused and still. He tried to find her eyes with his but hers were lowered to the floor unblinking.

"I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if you want to hear me, but I need you to listen, okay sweetheart."

At times like this he wished he smoked. It had been a habit he had given up before it really started, not wanting to be seen dependant, weak.

"I knew about you and Liam." There were so many secrets in their marriage and there was no point of being anything but direct.

Tony thought Carla may have took a deep, quick breath in reaction to his words but she was sitting all concaved upon herself and oh so diminutive.

"One little video from a silly little girl and every illusion I've ever had was destroyed. I learnt just how much I love you that day, Carla, because I could never feel hatred that deep if I didn't love you. Sure I have a temper but it's usually because my pride is hurt, I get even. But with you, I couldn't lose you. Getting even wouldn't be enough so I eliminated the competition."

She barely moves a muscle but her eyes slowly rise to look blankly at him as he speaks. It is enough to encourage him to continue bearing his soul.

"Why did you have to do it Carla? None of this would have happened if you'd stayed away from him. Was it lust? A quick fuck while you both laugh at me behind my back? Tell me it wasn't love."

It was impossible to get a firm grip on any emotion before it passed. He relished the chance to tell his wife how much she had hurt him with her betrayal. Things he had wanted to say on the bad nights for years but then he thought about what it would be like if he lost her. How he would have sunken into despair just like she was doing. He could not believe that it had been love between the pair. He would not deny there was a connection but it was not love, just a pair with years of history and a common loss.

He slipped of the edge of his chair falling to his knees in front of her. He needed reassurance that he could only find in her warmth. He needed to cause a reaction just to prove she is still alive.

"I will do anything for you." He has told her that a thousand times in the hopes that it would be enough. He doesn't think she has ever grasped just how far his love could make him go. "Tell me you understand."

She nods lightly in response, slow and careful, head still lowered and he feels like he has failed her.

"I'm so sorry I'm not enough. I tried to take care of you I really did. I honestly thought we could be so happy. Maybe it would be better if I hadn't…"

He trails of chocking on the words because Liam deserved what he got, that was the one thought that stopped the weight of the guilt crushing him. His throat is tight and raw, tongue thick and if it was not for the beautiful broken woman in front of him he would not have the courage to finish what he has started.

A hand under Carla's chin and she is not resilient to him moving her face so they are staring inches apart. Keeling down Tony is just the right height to be level with the sitting woman. He is pleased that she doesn't try to look away even if her eyes are dull and hardened, even if she's ashen white apart from the redness below sunken eyes and her lips are dry and cracked.

"Don't you understand what I'm telling you? You need to understand everything I'll do for you, how far I'll go…and its all for you, it is always for you."

She tries feebly to push him away focusing her attention back down on her hands but he can't let her hide from the world any longer. He places a hand on each cheek and pulls her face to his angry again because he let it get this far and she is making him say the actual words that he swore he'd take to the grave.

"Why are you making me spell it out? I knew about you and Liam and I couldn't take him always being here, always threatening to take you away, so paid to have him run down. I killed Liam, Carla, so we could be together."

He kisses her then closed lipped and hard, her lips are warm and he is left with a deep sense of finality.

When he pulls away he can see his words sink in. Her eyes wide and filled with shock, hands grasp his shirt in tight fists as if she is struggling to keep herself upright. She makes a choking, gasping noise and it is the first time she has made a noise in days. She is drowning in revelation and Tony has not seen her more alive for a longest time.

He clutches her elbows to stop her sinking back into the seat. He will never let her go because now he has a chance. They can work through this, he can make her understand. Even if she ends up hating him at least he saved her.

"It was all for you Carla, all for you."


	2. 2 Part One, My Boy Builds Coffins

Finally got around to writing the second story, only it is going slower than I'd like so I am posting this in two parts.

2. My Boy Builds Coffins

"_When I think of all the things he did because he loved me – what people visit on each other out of something like love. It's enough for all the world's woe. You don't even need hate to have a perfectly miserable time."- Mr. Fields Daughter, Richard Bausch _

Three months in she started to go on long distance business trips, meeting new buyers, expansion was the correct term. Part of him hopes she doesn't come back. He can't quite work up the energy to be appalled. He wonders when exactly it had become easier for one of then to disappear rather than admit the obvious: they had made a mistake.

At first there had been the frill of once idyllic things. There had certainly been desire in those early days after his divorce was finalised. But sex soon became about other things he was sure had nothing to do with love. Once all the pretence had gone it became nothing more than an obligation. Another aspect of their lives built on expectation, ruled by the weight of responsibility for what they had kept burning for so long.

They had no idea how to behave now nothing was forbidden and they had forgotten how to be friends.

Things seemed even worse once they stopped fighting; now there are silent meals, late nights working and perfunctory weekly couplings in the dark. She pretends that she doesn't see through his empty excuses for staying out all night long and he studiously ignores the way she seems to fade a little more each day. They both wonder in the back of their minds if this is what they had sacrificed so much for.

When they are in public their hands tangle with false intimacy and they smile at the comments about the romance of it all. It's surprising that no one seems to see through the façade, especially when there was so much piled against then to begin with, but he imagines that no one really want to. Everyone wants to believe that someone has the fairy tale. He wonders if everyone is always pretending. Maybe there really wasn't such a thing as happiness. Or happily ever after.

Yet neither of them could simply admit defeat. There is too much history for that. Too many people watching and too many fantasies kindled over the years. Stubbornness and a refusal to believe that they could have been so wrong keep them together, even when he begins to drink more than her.

She's been gone four days when the dreams begin, fragments of memories and firsts. The first time he met her, the first time they argued, the first time they spent the night together, the first time he saw her in tears and vulnerable. When the phone rings he wakes with a start, the sheets drenched in his sweat and empty bottles tumbling to the floor with discordant thuds. It's Carla, letting him know she would be home in the morning.

When he hangs up the phone he considers leaving silently in the dead of night. He still cares enough to run so she doesn't have too. He's dreams make him stay; they have too much history to lose everything in one night.

"Liam!" Carla shirked and wriggled, almost making him drop her which only seemed to make her giggle. He could feel her laughter through his hold on her waist; it is possibly the most wonderful feeling in the world.

"Liam what do you think you are doing?" She pretends to be stern but her arms wrap around his neck.

"I'm celebrating my new gorgeous girlfriend." He kisses the corner of her mouth hardy able to believe that she was all his. For the first time she did not feel fleeting, like she would turn to dust if he tried to touch her. He was drunk on liberation.

"We've been together for ages you plank." She mock told him off, her lips grazing his forehead.

"Yeah but now the divorce is finally over it is official and I'm not letting you go."

"Fine, but there is only so much you can do with me while I'm way up here." She sighed, tossing her head back to shake the waves of her hair, reviling the tempting smooth pale lines of her throat.

His throat went dry.

"But we have all the time in the world so I suppose we could see just how much we can get done in this position." She punctuated her words with wrapping her legs around his hips and an evil glint on her eyes.

"I can work with that." Liam manages to say feeling a mixture of admiration and anticipation. There is no one else in the world that can make him feel so off balanced yet at home. He happily buries his face between her breasts breathing in the sent of her warm skin.

For once he is unguarded as he pictures their lives together, the arguments and the making up. Every day things like cuddling on the sofa and eating chips together. He does not imagine them getting married, their years of trails and conflict carried more weight than a white dress and a legally recognised ceremony. Besides they already shared a second name. He sees them old and grey hand in hand walking along a sandy beach.

A hand in his hair pulls his head up till he can see her eyes diluted and dark, her nails scrape the back of his neck. "We may have all the time in the world but I'm still an impatient kind of girl so get a move on."

"Yes sir." He jokes. It would have been funnier if he saluted her but his hands were otherwise occupied. Hers are undoing the belt of his jeans.

"We finally made it." He whispers against her soft lips, unable to shake the gravitas of the moment.

Carla smirks running a hand across his cheek, "Aww, Leebugs is all poetical. I never doubted we would." They both know that's not true but the sentiment felt right.

"How can I not be when I am struck by your pulchritude?"

A perfectly shaped eyebrow arches as she regards him with hidden amusement. "Have you been reading the thesaurus again Liam?"

"How else do you expect me to find words that are worthy of describing your spectacular beauty?" He winks all giddy and confident.

When Carla makes fake gagging noises in response he silences her with kisses till they both dissolve into laughter.


End file.
